


Conversations with Dead People

by hunenka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e11 First Born, Gen, Ghosts, Mark of Cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:58:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunenka/pseuds/hunenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, the Mark of Cain and an unexpected late-night visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations with Dead People

_A mark was put upon him to warn others that killing Cain would provoke the vengeance of God, that if someone did something to harm Cain, the damage would come back sevenfold._ _Some interpretations view this as a physical mark, whereas other see the "mark" as a sign, and not –_

“Yeah, tell me something new,” Dean grumbles and closes the Wikipedia article. What exactly does all this stuff mean, anyway?

He already went through the Cain and Abel story in _Genesis_ in both English and in Latin, read through all the possible interpretations he could find on the internet or in the books he got at the local library in Podunk, North Dakota where he’s staying right now, another dingy motel like countless others before.

It seems like the Bible scholars and all the other academics can’t really agree on what exactly the Mark of Cain means, what is its curse. Immortality is a pretty common guess, but since Dean has a nasty gash on his arm as a souvenir from the wendigo he ganked last night, this option seems highly improbable. Unless, of course, immortality doesn’t necessarily mean invulnerability. And yeah, that’s possible, but he’s not stupid enough to stab himself in the heart just to test that theory.

Another popular explanation of the Mark says that its bearer will be cursed to walk the Earth alone, with no friends, no family, a lone wanderer who never finds home, his own sin-laden soul his only companion. This one sounds more like it, and if it turns out to be true, then Dean’s alright with that. Solitude hurts, but not as much as seeing those who he loves die because of him.

Next, seeing as Dean actually met the real Cain and he heard his side of the story, he can’t rule out the possibility that accepting the Mark means Dean’s going on another trip to the Pit. But then, he was already headed there _before_ he got the Mark, so no big deal.

And then there’s the chance that the Mark could mean something different altogether. The possibilities are endless, and Dean now feels kind of stupid for not listening to Cain’s warning in its entirety. Not that he regrets accepting the Mark, only it would spare his time if he didn’t have to research it now.

Anyway, he should probably get some sleep. A couple of hours, just so he’s rested enough to be able to drive safely tomorrow, vigilant enough to take care of the pair of black dogs that’s been reportedly sighted in Minnesota.

He finishes his glass of whiskey, briefly contemplates pouring himself another one, but in the end decides against it, and closes his laptop with a heavy sigh.

A cloud of mist forms in the air in front of his parted mouth and a familiar chill runs down his spine. Working on instinct, Dean reaches for the salt-loaded shotgun in the duffel lying under the table, finger on the trigger before he even looks up to see who the unwelcome guest is.

“Oh. So you _are_ dead.“ And of course now that she’s a ghost, she’s going after him. Figures.

Linda Tran’s ghost looks thin and sickly pale, bruises and cuts covering her skin and peeking from underneath torn clothes. Another dead that’s on Dean.

“You killed my son,“ she rasps as she hovers in the middle of the room. A vengeful spirit of a loving mother bent on vengeance for her dead son, that’s never a good thing.

“Yeah.“ He doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to correct her that technically it was Gadreel who killed Kevin, because that’s just semantics, and Dean’s not gonna hide from his mistakes.

She is somewhat taken aback by his easy admission, but collects herself quickly. “I’m going to make you pay.“

“Yeah, get in line.“ Standing up, he fires a dose of salt into her chest, waits for her to reappear again. He doesn’t have to wait long. She is glaring daggers at him but is more cautious now; after all, she knows he’s a killer.

“Look, I’m not saying I don’t deserve death, and worse, for all the fuck-ups that I’ve made. But look at this,“ he rolls up his sleeve and shows her the Mark. “This is gonna help me kill Abaddon, alright? And Crowley.“ She bristles at that name, her face contorting into an ugly grimace, but she doesn’t move to attack, so Dean goes on. “I’ve still got work to do, and I’m not going anywhere until I’ve finished it. So I’m sorry, but if you wanna stand in my way, I’m gonna put you down. Or,“ he continues, “you can just leave on your own.“

“You killed my son,“ she hisses and the air in the room gets colder, vibrating with dark energy that's just waiting to be unleashed. “I want to see you burn for that.“

Dean can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up his throat at that. “Can’t you see? I’m burning already.“

Her dark eyes narrow as she examines him carefully, like she’s staring into the depths of his soul. If he even has one still. After long moments, she gives a nod. “See you in Hell.“ With that, she dissolves into the air, disappearing for good.

He looks at the empty space she was occupying just seconds before, and nods back. “Yeah. I’ll be there.“


End file.
